


Godfather

by frankiesin



Series: discontinued works [27]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Weddings, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:19:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Eggsy meets his Goddaughter.





	Godfather

“So, you’re my Godfather now.” The Assassin said as she sat down beside Eggsy at the reception. And Eggsy, because he was a Kingsman and totally classy now, did not spittank his champagne. (He did; he also choked a little)

 

“I… you what?” Eggsy turned to look at the woman now seated beside him. Only her mouth was visible, as she had decided to remove her facemask for the wedding. She was smiling a twisted little smile at him. Of fucking course.

 

“Well, you married my original Godfather.” The assassin reached out and took Eggsy’s drink (rude), and took a sip from it. She set the glass back down a few centimetres away from Eggsy’s hand. “It would make sense that I would become your Godchild as well. That’s how these things usually work.”

 

Eggsy stared at her. He didn’t know if she could tell that he was staring, since she was blind and had a set of digital eyes that not even Merlin really understood. He opened his mouth, but then closed it because _what the actual fuck_. Yes, sure, he was married to Harry and that was great, but there was no way that Harry was the Assassin’s _Godfather_. Eggsy took his champagne back and spun the glass around in his hand. “You’re taking the piss, right? Harry’s not really your Godfather, is he?”

 

The Assassin’s smile grew more twisted. If she wasn’t dressed in an all-black suit she probably would have been terrifying.

 

Eggsy stopped messing with his glass. “ _Is he?_ ”

 

“He was my mother’s best friend.” The Assassin said. She tilted her head, and Eggsy knew that--if she could actually see him--she would be giving him her version of a Russian death stare. “My older brother was named after him and my father. Harry Hart is practically my uncle at this point.”

 

“And he’s your Godfather.” This was Eggsy’s life now, apparently. Because being a fucking gentleman spy wasn’t good enough. No, he had to go and marry a man who apparently adopted a family of Russian assassins. Of fucking course.

 

The Assassin inclined her head. “As are you.”

 

Eggsy felt that getting drunk at his own wedding would be rude, but shite. Some things just couldn’t be done sober. This conversation was quickly becoming one of them. “I’m pretty sure that you’re older than me. How the fuck is this going to work?”

 

The Assassin shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger families. You’ll figure it out.”

 

And then she just got up and walked off, because she wasn’t called the Assassin for her stellar social skills.

 

Eggsy resisted the urge to slam his head against the table. Again, probably not appropriate at his own wedding. He’d have to bring up the whole adopting dangerous people thing with Harry later, because there were certain things that spies could do behind their significant other’s back, but the adopting thing was not one of them.

 

In the meantime, this was his wedding, and he wasn’t going to just sit at a table and contemplate his husband’s life choices. After all, this would hopefully be the only wedding where he would be the groom.

 


End file.
